Umbrellas
by TearStainedAshes
Summary: John has decided to drag Sherlock out of the flat for a walk on a lovely spring day, much to Sherlock's chagrin. (cover photo belongs to Reapersun)


Inspired by this post from Imaging Your OTP: post/45913035289/

And this wonderful piece of Reapersun art: post/10349040184/

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_Umbrellas_

'Sherlock, it's supposed to rain. Take the damn umbrella,' John sighed. Sherlock was pouting in his chair, coat and scarf already on. He knew it was supposed to rain but he refused to carry the umbrella.

'No,' he growled, sinking further into himself. John sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

'Why the hell not?' he demanded.

'Why do you think?' Sherlock shot back.

'Oh my god, Sherlock. Just because Mycroft carries an umbrella does not mean every umbrella is evil!'

'I don't care,' Sherlock pouted. 'If it reminds me of my brother I automatically hate it.' John groaned in exasperation, running his hand down his face.

'Fine. If you won't carry one, I will. But if it starts raining don't come crying to me.'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

'You already said that.'

'I don't care. It's all fine. Now can we go? Please?'

'Remind me why I agreed to this again?'

'Because it is spring and you need to get out of the flat and stretch your legs every now and again.'

'Spring my arse,' Sherlock grumbled. 'It may be sunny but it's still cold. *Barely ten degrees out.'

'It's warm enough. Now, get off your arse and let's go. And put your phone away. I'm not going to have you texting Lestrade for cases or Molly for organs. This is so you can clear your head, get some exercise and some fresh air, and think about something else other than how bored you are.'

Sherlock pouted but stood up, tucking his Blackberry in his coat pocket before stomping down the stairs and out of the flat. The sun was bright and he had to shield his eyes from the rays. There was a gentle breeze, just enough to keep a person cool should the sun not disappear behind a cloud for very long. Overall it was a nice day; not that Sherlock would ever concede to that fact aloud.

'Okay, follow me. We're going to the park,' John said, closing and locking the door behind them. He held the umbrella over his shoulder, like Mycroft did when he was being a pompous arse, which was always. Sherlock scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets and followed John. John began whistling a random tune, making Sherlock scowl further. John was too cheerful sometimes for his dark moods, but he found the whistling less irritating than usual. He supposed it was because of the Vitamin D soaking into his skin from the sun. He was always more cheerful when the sun was out. John even more so.

Dark clouds started forming overhead, John's whistling stopping as he frowned up at the sky. He wasn't going to tell Sherlock he told him so, but, well, he _had_ told him. It didn't start raining until they reached the park, thankfully. It was just sprinkles at first, the sun still shining. But then a massive, almost black cloud, wedged its way in front of the sun and the rain started picking up. John didn't open the umbrella until it started coming down heavily. Sherlock merely stood off to the side, getting drenched in the downpour. He looked like a wet cat, utterly miserable at getting so wet.

'You berk,' John smiled. 'Come on. We can share. You don't even have to touch the bloody thing if you don't want.'

'I'm fine,' Sherlock lied. The rain had already soaked his coat and he was shivering like mad.

'No, you aren't fine,' John sighed, budging closer to Sherlock and raising the umbrella higher so it was over Sherlock's head. 'Come here.' He wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him against him. His coat was soaked, the water seeping through John's own coat and jumper. Sherlock stiffened at the contact but allowed the touch. It felt… comforting.

'Thanks,' he rasped out, shifting closer to John's body heat. The small man was like a space heater. It was something Sherlock particularly enjoyed, not that he would tell John.

'You're welcome,' John smiled softly. He adjusted his hold on Sherlock's waist, managing to slip his hand into Sherlock's pocket to keep his hand warm. 'You're an idiot.'

'I know.'

John grinned and walked them back to Baker Street, arms around each other's waists and smiles on their faces.

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*this is in Celsius, just so no one is all like 'Ten degrees?! But that's freezing!' It's in Celsius, which is 50 in Fahrenheit.

Originally written and posted to Gaytective's tumblr, because she was having a bad day and asked for some Johnlock fluff. So, I submitted this. This was my first time ever writing for someone else, and I guess I just wanted to post it here because it's just a cute little drabble. Enjoy!

~TSA


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